Fate
by Fiyeraaron
Summary: They will always meet. It doesn't matter where or when, how or why. But their stories will always entangle. It's inevitable.
1. Chapter 1

**-a rainy day-**

He's running late already. Of course, he does _lead_ the meeting, and he _does _say when the session starts and ends, but he is five minutes late (his bus driver was stupidly tardy, he's thinking of filing a complaint) and that isn't acceptable.

Plus, his shoes are definitely not suitable for running. They were from his mother three Christmases ago, and he has managed to avoid wearing them regularly ever since. Not that he doesn't like them- he has to admit, they do look very smart- he just doesn't like how _entitled_ they make him look. Not to add that they are kind of rubbing his feet.

He checks his watch. Nine minutes late. He looks around the street. At least fifteen minutes away from the Musain. He sighs.

That's when he feels it.

He brushes it off as a fluke at first, rubs his nose and carries on, a more determined look on his face. Then he feels it again, more prominent this time. He switches his folder to his other arm and rushes past a woman with a pram.

Then it begins. Just a few gentle drops at first. He sighs because _come on, he was having a good hair day_, but rolls his eyes and accepts it. He can deal with a light trickle of rain, he's mature.

He passes a busy restaurant, nobody leaving, everybody filing in. He hears somebody say 'it's coming!', which is when the speed of the rain increases. So much so that it is almost bouncing off the ground.

Slightly deterred, but adamant to get there with at least an hour left, he carries on. All he can hear is the sound of rain, his red hoodie a darker colour than when he left the house, soaking and useless. His folder is completely wet as well, all the sheets probably drenched.

He picks up his pace, practically sprinting down the road. He turns a corner, slips a bit, but recovers gracefully (thank god for those ice skating lessons his mother forced him to take). The road is completely bare now, just him and the downpour.

He sees a rather large puddle, the light from the street lamp making the pavement shine. Jumping up and over the puddle, he looks straight forward, preparing for the landing.

Unfortunately, he underestimates how close the pavement is to his feet and, in his state of shock, slips and falls. His folder goes flying out of his hand and he tries desperately to put his hands underneath his head.

He lies there for a couple of seconds, trying to process what just happened. The rain is still screaming at him, but he hears a chuckle coming from the side of him, confusedly below him.

Turning his head and resting his cheek on his flat palm, he sees a girl. Probably just younger than him, standing on some stairs leading down to a door. She's completely dry, covered by the overhanging house above. She's grinning at him, not even trying to cover up her amusement.

"You alright there, buddy?"

He glares at her, and feels embarrassment flood his body. Sighing he shoves himself up (he almost slips again when trying to find his footing, but she doesn't notice), and turns to her.

"Have you," the rain being louder than he expected, he shouts to her, "have you got any room under there to spare?"

She grins and shuffles to the side. He takes that as a sign to join her, so he almost runs to the stairs. He jogs down them, sure to make sure he keeps his eyes on the floor, not missing one step.

When he reaches her and feels the rain stop, he turns to her. "Thanks."

She has a weird look on her face, a mixture of amusement and confusion. "It's fine. I'm Éponine."

He takes off his hoodie. "Enjolras." He gives her a smile.

"Okay, then, Enjolras. Nice to meet you."

Placing his hoodie on the floor, he gives her a lopsided smile. "It's nice to meet you too, Éponine, despite the terrible circumstances."

"I don't know what you're talking about, I think the circumstances are quite amusing."

He glares at her, but stays silent. He combs his fingers through his hair.

"Your folder is on the floor."

His eyes dart up, scanning the road. As she said, his folder is on the pavement, lying in a puddle, actually.

"Like owner, like folder." She says, laughter evident in her voice.

"Are you just going to make fun of me?" He grins at her nevertheless.

"Of course. You look hilarious. Your name is hilarious. What you just did is hilarious." She pauses to laugh. "I've got to take this golden opportunity."

He skims his eyes over her. He looks at her for a while. "Have I met you before?"

She chuckles and looks to the rain in front of them. "Nope."

He still stares at her. "I'm pretty sure I've heard the name Éponine before. It's not a very common name."

She turns to him and grins. "What, and Enjolras is? I would remember meeting you, trust me."

He narrows his eyes. "Are you meant to be somewhere?"

"Yes, actually. I'm meeting someone."

He nods, swallowing and looking to the road. "Boyfriend?"

She giggles. "My friend who happens to be a boy. What about you?"

He sighs, and checks his watch. 23 minutes late. "Yep. I have a meeting."

Her eyes light up. "Ooh, are you some type of fancy lawyer who has big meetings with whiteboards and pencil sharpeners and empty coffee mugs?"

He watches her in amusement, laughing all the while. "I am a lawyer, yes. But it's not a meeting for my job, it's for a group I have founded." She raises an eyebrow, so he continues. "Have you ever heard of Les Amis d'la ABC?"

Her eyes widen. "You're the guy who loves France."

He shakes his head in confusion. "What?"

"You know Marius Pontmercy."

He gives her a baffled grin. "Why, yes. I mean, how do you-"

"I was supposed to be coming to your meeting tonight!"

His mouth drops open for a second before he recovers himself. "You're Marius' neighbour!"

She nods and laughs.

They stand there and talk for about five minutes more, neither of them noticing that the rain has completely stopped. It isn't until Enjolras receives a phone call from Combeferre that they realise where they are supposed to be. They walk to the meeting together, and everything spirals off from there.

**-a summer camp-**

He originally volunteered because it would make him look great on university applications. But then his friends found out and then they all wanted to join, so it kind of ended up like a large summer camp ran by Les Amis. Admittedly, he did enjoy having them there much more than if he were alone.

It was to last three weeks, and his group were- as expected, since Courfeyrac helped choose the groups- the most annoying, mischievous, and cheeky twelve year olds he had ever met. There was one girl (Lily, her name was) who made fun of his hair just because it was the same colour and style as hers. There was another kid called John who didn't listen to a word Enjolras said, no matter how loud he shouted. There was only one boy in the group who actually listened to a word he said- Gavroche, the blond shaggy haired boy- actually asked questions about his group and what his aspirations were all about. It was new and refreshing to have another person actually listen and give feedback about Les Amis, even if it was a twelve year old boy who once ate a leaf because his friend dared him to.

Which is why it is so surprising when he comes into the lunch room to see Gavroche, surrounded by laughing children, standing on a table with a red table cloth clutched in his arm and the other fisted in the air, shouting 'vive la France, vive la France!' at the top of his lungs. Normally, he would be proud at such an admirable show of defiance and determination. That would be so, if not for the platinum blond (obviously fake, and totally not his style) wig on his head.

His face going red with embarrassment and anger, he turns to the side and sees Courfeyrac, Grantaire, Bahorel, and Joly laughing along with the teenagers. He swears they laugh harder when they see him.

He storms out of the room, completely humiliated, striding towards the reception area of the camp. He stomps over to the woman at the desk, demanding the emergency contact list of his group. Her eyes widen a little at his frenzied eyes and she passes him the stapled pieces of paper without a word.

He walks into the nearest bathroom, placing the paper on the sinks and skimming through the names until he finds 'G. Jondrette'. Placing his finger on the accompanied number, he runs his hand through his hair and quickly types the number into his phone, pressing call hurriedly.

He begins pacing after the third ring. It picks up.

"Hello?"

"Hello? Hello. I need to talk to you about your son, Gavroche."

There's a cough. "Actually, he's-"

"At first I though that Gavroche was a pretty cool kid, he listened to me and contributed much more than any other teenager in this godforsaken camp. So I trusted him, I told him about my group and what I've been working towards my entire life. And you know what he does? He makes fun of me in the dining room, poorly imitating me and embarrassing me horribly." He stops to take a deep breath. He carries on walking around the room, angrily pulling faces and moving his free hand about even though he knows the other person can't see.

"Well, I'm sure Gavroche was-"

"He was stood on the table, a red cloth in his hands, pretending it was, what I can only imagine it to be, a flag. Not only that, oh no, he was also wearing a curly blond wig on his head, covering his own blond hair which is more like my colour than the wig, might I add. Also, whilst we're on the subject, may I suggest that you force him to have a haircut, it's getting dangerously like a Beiber fringe and I'm not having such a person in my group. Where was I, oh yes! He was also, at the top of his lungs, chan-"

"Okay, you know what? I'm not dealing with this shit. Do you seriously think I'm going to let you talk such shit about my _brother_? Gav' is a good kid, you obviously know that because of everything you said about him before all the bullshit. He likes to have a laugh, he enjoys having fun. He's a fucking teenager. I don't know how old you are, but I'm guessing you must be about sixty if you can't remember what it's like to want to impress your friends and joke about with them. I can tell you for sure that he just meant it in jest, my god. Have you never heard of having a laugh before?"

He stays stuck in his place, his mouth agape. He tries to force words out, but he can't think of anything to say.

"Have I finally shut you up? Wow, what a miracle."

He nods slowly. "I'm sorry."

"You should be. That was totally uncalled for. You should have said all this shit to Gav', not me. I haven't done anything wrong."

He nods again. "That's true. I am- I am dreadfully sorry. Please forgive me."

She's silent for a while. She just hums.

There's a long beep after.

She hung up on him.

He pulls his phone from his ear and looks at it in wonder.

* * *

><p>"So you're the dick who thought he could take me on, huh?"<p>

He turns around quickly, finding a short brown haired girl in front of him. A smug looking Gavroche stands close behind, a smirk on his face. He stutters in bewilderment.

"I- well, yes. It has all been sorted now, so everything is fine."

She nods. "Oh, I know it has been sorted. If it hadn't, you wouldn't believe the amount of shit I'd be yelling at you right now."

"I can imagine." He can, he really can. She looks and sounds like the type of woman who could knock down a person's self esteem in just a few words.

She smiles. "You've got my number, right?"

He frowns, an amused smile still stuck on his face though. "Yes, why?"

She nods. "I'm Éponine."

He sticks his hand out to her. "Enjolras."

She just looks at it, then flicks her eyes back up to his. He awkwardly drops his hand, stretching it by his side.

"Use that phone number."

She turns and walk away, and he's left there wondering who she is and why he really wants to call her as soon as possible.

**-a wedding-**

He's one of the groomsmen. God knows why, but he is. He couldn't exactly deny it either, Courfeyrac had threatened him. Marius was like a puppy who just wouldn't let go of something once he has it, and apparently hurting Marius' feelings is like taking a chew toy from a puppy. You just don't do it.

So that's how he ends up in a new suit (red tie, his suggestion), in a room full of people, on a Saturday night when _he could be planning tomorrow's meeting_. It's the after party, a buffet set up and unlimited drinks at the bar.

Despite the freedom with food, the seating arrangements are not so free. He's on a table with Combeferre, Bahorel, and Grantaire. He's fine with that. It's just the girls that he's upset with. He knows none of them at all. He has a girl called Éponine on his right, and a girl called Musichetta on his left. Across from him, there is a girl called Azelma that keeps staring at him, and 'this is why he doesn't come to social events'.

It's the speeches right now, and Cosette's father is speaking. It's very tearful, and he thinks Bahorel might be crying, but he can't be sure and he frankly doesn't want to point it out lest he face the consequences. The speech ends and they raise their glasses.

"To Cosette and Marius."

They repeat it back and take a sip. He hears a mumble from beside him.

"The only good thing about this reception is the alcohol."

He almost spits out his champagne, his face going red from the concealed laughter. He ends up just silently shaking, and the brown haired girl beside him (Éponine, he remembers) gives him a sideways glance and an amused smirk.

He swallows and tries to put on a straight face. Courfeyrac stands up and begins his best man speech, but Enjolras finds himself focusing too much on thinking of a witty comment than actually listening to what his friend has to say. The speech ends faster than Enjolras expects and, still struggling for a comment, he just stays silent, feeling disappointed in himself. He's an amazing orator, why can't he make a pretty girl laugh?

Anyway, he- wait, what? Nevermind.

Marius stands up.

"Cosette and I met with love at first sight."

He sighs. "How cliché."

Éponine bursts into laughter next to him, and he gives her a surprised grin. Like him, she tries to stop her laughter, not wanting to disrupt the groom. So that's the trick, don't think about it too much, just say the first thing that comes into your head, right?

Marius is crying. He doesn't know how much of the speech he missed, silently laughing with Éponine, but Marius has tears running down his cheeks while a smile is stuck on his face as he reads off of some paper. He ends the speech and everybody claps, raises their glasses, takes a drink, then places the glass on the table.

Marius addresses the guests. "Feel free to help yourself to food and drinks."

Éponine almost darts up, her and a young boy with pristine hair (obviously heavily gelled) running to the buffet table from opposite sides of the room. Éponine pushes in front of him, grabbing a plate before him.

Enjolras thinks that he's the only person to see it, because everybody else is either talking to other people or moving to the table (at a significantly slower pace than the first two) themselves.

Éponine returns shortly, her plate piled with food. He finds himself grinning, laughing at how precariously it is all balanced. She sits down.

"You're about to see something pretty spectacular go down, pretty boy."

He laughs, then goes red. "Did you just call me 'pretty boy'?"

She nods, taking a bite of a breadstick. "You got a problem with that, _pretty boy_?"

He shakes his head. "Of course not. As long as you're okay with me giving you a nickname, sweetheart?"

She shrugs, a smirk forming on her face. "Fine by me."

They end up dancing together that night. He makes comments on Marius' 'hip moves', and she giggles at Courfeyrac's breakdancing.

She ends up coming to his that night, and nobody even bats an eyelid when they show up at the meeting together the next day.


	2. Chapter 2

**-a guide- **

"Excuse me, can you tell me how to get to la Cafe Musain?"

She spins around, dropping her pencil as she does so. Not bothering to look at the person who spoke to her, she bends down to pick it up. Reaching for the pen, she comes across another pair of hands, another figure crouched down parallel to herself.

Blond hair, blue eyes, chiseled jaw. They're the first things she notices about him. He picks up the pencil for her, handing it to her awkwardly, not taking his eyes off of her.

"S-sorry. I didn't mean to- I mean, I just- do you know where it is- please?"

She shakes her head in confusion. "That made no sense."

She watches in amusement as his face goes red. "I meant," he clears his throat, "do you know where la Cafe Musain is?"

She smiles. "Yes, it's just-", she stops. "Can we please stand up?" Without waiting for an answer, she stands up and smiles at him.

Following her up, he grins at her. She carries on with her directions. "You're not actually that far from it." Pointing to the end of the road, she speaks. "You just need to follow this road, turn left, and then carry on until the end of the street." She smiles at him.

"Thank you. Sorry for your- you know, pencil thing."

She shakes her head and looks away. "It's fine, it's just a pencil anyway."

He nods. "I'm Enjolras, by the way."

She gives him a smile and a nod, wanting to carry on with her sketching. "Éponine." She lets the name register in her head, turns to him. "Enjolras? Do I know you?"

"I-I don't think so."

She frowns. "Are you sure? Your name sounds very familiar."

"I would definitely remember meeting you before."

She grins. "Oh, well, nevermind." She turns around.

"What are you sketching?"

She gives him an amused smile. "Just the street. It's nice and busy, lots to draw."

He nods. "You're very talented."

"Well, it's my job, so."

"Oh, really? Anything I would know?"

"Probably not. Me and my friend R, we hold exhibitions-"

He stops her. "R? As in Grantaire?"

She turns to him and smiles. "Yes! How do you know him?"

"He's my friend. That's who I'm meeting now, actually. At la Cafe Musain." His eyes light up. "You should join us."

She laughs shortly. "You know, I'd rather not third wheel."

Once again, his face goes red. "No, no, my other friends will be there too."

She turns to look at him. The sharp curve of his jaw, the gentle slope of his nose, the colour of his lips. The hopeful look in his eyes.

"Sure."

She leads the way, and he follows her, paving the way for the rest of their lives.

**-a distraction-**

He left the house early. The meeting is at 1pm, and it is currently 12:30. He has time to spare, especially seeing as he has already circled the block around the cafe twice. He wasn't scheduled to get the back room of the cafe for another fifteen minutes (he gets there before the others just to make sure everything is organised), so he checks his watch and sighs. Looks like he has time for another trio around the streets.

He knows his way around, he's done this far too many times to get lost. Straight down the street, take a left into the alley, follow it down until the little fountain, cross over the square until you reach the bakery, then down the side street on the right, then carry on until you're back to where you started. It's easy.

So he head back off again. Usually, he ends up just thinking, nothing in particular, just sorting out his thoughts, having internal debates with himself. Every now and again he will see somebody he knows (his parents know a lot of people that he was unfortunate enough to meet), but will never stop to chat with them. He knows what they will say. 'You should really reconsider that offer your father made you', or 'don't worry, everybody falls out with their parents when they're your age, you'll see sense eventually'. He frankly- 'take the left'- doesn't care, he's heard it all direct from his parents themselves too many times to count.

Also, it's not like fighting for a better France is something to b-

"'Scuse me, Monsieur, are you lost?"

He flicks his neck around and stops. A young girl- woman?- is stood there, a hand on her hip and a smirk on her face.

He shakes his head politely, smiling slightly. "No, I know where I am. Thank you anyway." He starts waking again.

"Are you sure, Monsieur? I've seen you walk past here three times now, and you always look deep in thought, like you're trying to work out where you are."

He purses his lips. "No, I'm just walking around." He narrows his eyes. "Do I know you?"

She raises an eyebrow. "I don't know you, so you definitely won't know me."

He nods his head a bit. "Okay. Well, I better be on my way, it's-"

"Are you one of those revolutionaries?" She motions to his cockade, proudly pinned on his coat.

He puffs his chest out a little. "Yes, I am. Fighting for a new France for the people."

She walks up next to him, moving a little in front of him. He follows behind her. "Tell me about your cause, Monsieur."

He smiles. "Well, it isn't right that innocent people should be left on the streets, people who were just thrown into the life they have with no choice of how to lead it. They either steal, beg, or die." She stops, so he stops as well. Turning to her, he continues. "There are no other options, and that isn't the type of place France should be. Especially not when there are-"

His eyes widen when his words are cut short by her face on his. Her lips are currently pressed against his own, and her hands are on his cheeks. He attempts to move away, but her lips move slightly against his and his movements still.

Grantaire would laugh if he saw Enjolras right now. His hands frozen on a young woman's waist, his eyes open and alarmed as his lips are pressed against hers. He's never done this before (yes, Les Amis laughed about it, he is no longer embarrassed about it) so he doesn't know how to react.

Her lips move against his again, and he lets his eyes close. Moving on instinct, he parts his lips and almost has a heart attack when he feels her tongue enter his mouth. His hands flexing on her hips, he pulls his closer. Her hands are on his chest, and their kissing becomes more frenzied as the time passes. He ends up pressed against the wall, her frantic movements, the grasping of his clothing and the tugging of his hair, all working his up even more. His hands move uncontrollably on her back, squeezing and forcing her body closer to his, and he finds himself having to stop kissing her to breath. Ripping his lips from hers, her moth travels along his neck, sucking and tugging, and he can feel a dull ache beginning to form at the hollow of his neckline. He gasps for air, and, threading a hand through her brown hair, he tugs her head bad up to his to attach his lips to hers again.

However, she takes a step back. He moves to place his hands back on her waist, but she's too far away. His lips tingle to feel her again, and he thinks that kissing this girl is the greatest feeling in the world. Grinning, she winks at him, and turns and walks away.

He's still catching his breath, but he tries to shout after her.

"Wait!"

She doesn't turn around though. He tries again.

"Wait, who are you?"

Her form is getting smaller as she walks up the alley they walked down together a couple of minutes before.

"I lied. I am lost!"

No such luck. He leans against the wall and takes a few deep breaths. His trousers feel much tighter than before, and he sighs when he runs his hands through his hair- completely messed up and tangled. He feels a peculiar lightness in his chest, a feeling that he can't quite place.

It isn't until he's at his meeting that he realises what it is. His friends laugh at him, Courfeyrac pats him on the back, and Combeferre rolls his eyes at him. Grantaire actually has to sit down and breath deeply to calm down. When going to pay for his water, he had reached for his wallet to find it missing. It takes a few minutes to realise what had happened, but, all in all, it makes sense.

**-a date-**

"Hi, excuse me? Hi. I need you to do me a favour."

He looks up confusedly, frowning at the brunette in front of him.

"Sorry, do I know you?"

She sits down on the chair across from him, placing her bag on the floor as she does so. "No, no you don't. But my ex just walked through the door and I really need to show him that I'm not still hung up on him."

He raises an eyebrow.

She sighs, a desperate look on her face. "Look, you seem like a nice guy, and the book your reading is one of my favourite books of all time. Please just do me this one thing and I'll never bother you again."

She looks very impatient, her eyes keep darting from him to just behind his head.

He blinks. "Fine. What does this activity entail?"

A grin breaks out on her face and he immediately smiles as well. "You just have to act like you're on a date with me."

He clears his throat. "What is your name?"

Her eyes dart to behind him again and he voice becomes a quick whisper. "I'm Éponine. What is your name?"

"Hello Éponine. My name is Enjolras. It's very nice-"

He is cut off by her laughing loudly, over exaggerating her movements, one hand going to her chest. He sees a couple walk past them, so assumes that the boy is her ex. They sit down at the table diagonal from his own. He can see the boy, brown haired and dopey looking. Enjolras focuses his eyes back on Éponine.

"So, Pride and Prejudice, hm?"

Her eyes light up. "Yes! Such an amazing book, Jane Austen is a beautiful writer. I feel like I _am_ Elizabeth when I read it."

He hums in amusement. "Funny, I feel like I am Mr Darcy when _I_ read it."

Her eyes turn teasing. "Maybe we were meant to go on a date after all then."

He takes a sip of his tea. "Maybe."

Turns out, it was fate that pushed them together that day. That cafe becomes their favourite place after that first meeting, and one day, a couple of years later, he gets down on one knee at that exact table to propose to her.


	3. Chapter 3

"Hi, I'm sorry, do you work here?"

The man is obviously frustrated, his blond hair in disarray and his face red. It's 4:38pm on Christmas Eve, and she works at ToysRUs. There have been plenty of this type of customers just in the past hour, she knows how to deal with them. She can perfectly give them directions to the remains of the Frozen stock, and tell them that everything they have is out on show.

She glances down at her name badge. Looking back up at him, she smiles. "Yes, what can I help you with?"

He smiles gratefully. "I need a child's present." His words come out so seriously, she is almost intimidated for a second.

She nods slowly. "That's pretty vague."

He nods. "I know." He looks around desperately. "I think that maybe it's a girl, but I can't be sure."

She nods again, taking a couple of steps towards the aisle that her and the rest of the bored staff have called 'The Tragically Pathetic Shopper's Aisle'. "Do you know the age of the child?" He's following her quickly, and she feels a need to make this (handsome) man leave happy with a gift for this ambiguous child.

"I don't know. Maybe seven or eight, probably. Not more than ten, but not newborn either." He's looking at her like she holds the secret to the universe, and the pressure she feels is unbearable.

"Why are you buying a gift for a child that you don't even know?"

He runs a hand through his hair. "It's for my cousin's child. They rang this morning and said that they would be coming around to my parent's house for Christmas Day."

She nods, trying to understand. "Have you got something for your cousin then?"

He lifts up a brown bag, crumbled and damp from rain. "Couples like wine, right?" He genuinely looks like he doesn't have a clue.

Pity, more than anything, overcomes her. "Yes, of course. Wine will do, especially if you aren't close with them, which I'm assuming, from this current situation, you're not?"

He shakes his head, a sheepish smile climbing onto his face. "I don't speak to my family that much."

She takes a look at the toys in front of her. "Join the club." She tries to throw him a sympathetic smile, but he just looks at her with wonderment.

"Are you spending Christmas with your friends then?" He sounds interested, so she doesn't stop the conversation. She begins just touching random boxes, looking as though she is browsing for a gift for him. He's not even trying to seem like he's searching for a toy, watching her wholly.

"Well, I guess so. I'm having Christmas dinner with my friend's family, but they're more like my parents than my biological ones, so I guess so. But then I'm going to my friend's house afterwards to watch Christmas films and open presents." She smiles. "What about you?"

"I'm being forced to go to my parent's house for Christmas dinner, just like every year. They like to pretend we're the perfect loving family, even though they didn't even send me a birthday card this year. It's all for appearances." He sounds downtrodden, which really makes her sad, especially on Christmas Eve.

"Sometimes we're born into families that we don't feel we belong in, and that's okay." She gives him a reassuring smile, which he returns.

"But, hey, I'm going to my friend's tomorrow after dinner as well. Looks like we both got lucky with our friendship group."

She laughs, rolling her eyes. "Sometimes they're more of a hinderance than friends."

He chuckles. "Oh, trust me, I know. They won't stop trying to set me up with random girls. It's embarrassing."

She looks surprised at him, but laughs anyway. "Same here! Just because I broke up with my boyfriend a few weeks ago, it doesn't mean I'm going to jump into bed with the first guy they show me." She doesn't know why, but she feels the need to make her relationship status known to this guy.

"I would agree, but I've never been in a relationship, so they have been doing this for about eight years now." He shrugs.

"You've never been in a relationship?"

He shakes his head, smiling a bit. "Nope."

She is genuinely shocked. "But-but how?" She unashamedly gives him a once over, making sure there is no obvious reason for him to not be perfect arm candy, four legs or something along those lines.

"Never been interested." He shrugs as though it isn't a big deal. Two weeks without Montparnasse is the longest she hasn't been in a relationship since she turned seventeen. Who wouldn't want to grab this guy as soon as possible?

She just shakes her head. "But you're perfect." His surprised grin alerts her to what she just said. "Wait, did I just say that?"

"I think you did." He smiles wider at her. "I'm Enjolras."

She grins at him. "Éponine."

They simultaneously frown at each other. "Do I know you from somewhere?"

"I swear I've heard that name before." It's not like there are many Enjolrases (Enjolrai? Enjolrasee?) running around.

He just studies her for a while, and she almost feels embarrassed under his heavy gaze. She begins to search the aisle again. "What about Play Dough? Everybody loves Play Dough!"

He is still looking at her when she turns to him, but she shakes the box of Play Dough and he thankfully takes it. "Great idea! My friend is twenty-six and he still plays with this stuff!"

She is about to point out that her and Grantaire recently made the best farmyard ever out of Play Dough (R had made sure to post their creation on every social media he owns), and she doesn't know anybody who hasn't jumped at the chance to play with it. It's an instant crowd pleaser.

"Awesome! Shall I take it to the till for you?"

He hands it back to her, smiling. "Yes, please." He follows her as she walks again. "Wow, I can't tell you how much this has helped, I would probably still be looking at board games if it weren't for you."

She giggles, placing the box onto the desk and getting a bag ready. She can see all the last minute shoppers starting to file out. Thank god there are nine people in store today, she would never have been able to help this guy if not.

"It's a tough decision. I mean, this could rupture your relationship with your family forever if you get them the wrong present."

"Not that that would be a bad thing." He grins at her. She almost feels sorry for him, but then remembers her family situation. At least his family want him at their house, even if it is just for appearances. "So when do you close?"

She checks her watch quickly, scanning the box and placing it in the bag. "4 minutes left." The eagerness in her voice is palpable.

"That's lucky, what are you gonna do when you get home?" She isn't going home, she's going to see Gav' at his foster home. But they're not close enough for that type of information yet.

"I've got some last minute wrapping to do, what about you?" Not a complete lie, she still has to wrap R's gift; a collection of photographs and memories collected from over the years, placed neatly in a scrapbook. They had decided to go for sentimental, not expensive this year, which is always fun.

"I'm going to wrap these up, then catch up on some work." He puts his PIN number in, then takes the card.

She smiles. "Oh, what do you do?"

"I'm working towards my law degree."

She grins. "Wow, hardcore. It suits you."

He laughs. "And what do you do?" He gives her a charming smile. "You know, besides being a guardian angel for desperate shoppers on Christmas Eve."

She smiles, placing the receipt in the bag. "I'm in my second year of dance school."

His eyes widen. "Really? That's amazing! How do you have the time to do all of that and then have this job on the side? Surely you're exhausted."

"Yep, I am. But I have to pay my way through it somehow, right?"

He shakes his head. "My parents have already paid all my debts off." He sounds upset about it, almost embarrassed.

She should have guessed his parents would be rich freaks. His clothes _are_ perfectly fitting, and his hair _is_ evenly cut.

"Lucky for some." She sighs.

He just nods, watching her. He looks down at the bag on the desk.

She smiles. "Well, I'm gonna close up now. It's 5:03pm, time to go."

He grabs the bag and places it with the other brown one in his left hand. "Well, Éponine..."

She smiles at him, lifting an awkward hand, closing the till down as she does so. "See you later."

He looks like he wants to say something, but all that comes out is, "merry Christmas."

She grins, walking away from the till point towards the back of the shop, leaving him there. "You too. Have fun at your friend's house." She turns around then and doesn't wait for an answer.

When she closes up the shop, he is gone.

* * *

><p>Tomorrow, when he shows up at R's, she is hardly surprised.<p>

"Did your cousin's daughter like her Play Dough?" Is the first thing she says to him.

He grins. "Turns out it was a four year old boy, but yes. I got through it."

She grins. "Good."


End file.
